A Letter to Fred
by formerlyknownasone
Summary: And then, just as I was sneezing and helplessly wet, you came in yellow Wellington boots and beamed brightly at me, offering me your big blue umbrella near the red brick wall.


**I think none of us can forgive JKR for what she did to Fred. Damn, she always pick the best one to die. He needs a tribute.**

**HE NEEDS A TRIBUTE.**

**This one goes out to you, Fred. **

**I call it A Letter to Fred**

**Enjoy.**

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_Dear Fred,_

We were best friends for eight years. Perhaps longer, but it felt so much shorter than that. I remember the time where you jinxed my hair green in that fateful corridor on that fateful day. I didn't know much magic then, so I did what any girl like me would do—punch your teeth out. You were impressed. I wasn't.

I don't think anyone else had such an unromantic moment as that. Probably not your best side, but it was my fondest memory of you.

Then there was that serious, protective side of you. The side that so many have felt but never seen. Not the wizard who loved teasing and pranking, but the guy who loved his family and friends above all. The one who fought so hard to defend his family honour, the one who struggled to keep his family happy, even though it was hard for you to do so.

I'm glad you decided to forgive Percy after all.

Do you still recall that summer night three years ago? I don't remember why, but I was in Diagon Alley. It was dark and raining, and I didn't have a jacket. The rain had been really heavy, and I was all alone. I was almost fully drenched, and it was so wet and cold. And then, just as I was sneezing and helplessly wet, you came in yellow Wellington boots and beamed brightly at me, offering me your big blue umbrella near the red brick wall.

It was that moment I realised how much you meant to me.

And as we walked down the streets after that, I noticed your back was all soaked with rainwater.

You weren't just the boy who happens to be my best friend. You were the boy who I spent eight years of my life with. You were the boy who slipped sweets under my pillow just to make me smile. You were the boy who wiped my tears away when my dad died. You were the boy who never let go of my hand, and I didn't want you to.

You must have scolded me a few hundred times, chiding me for not calling you a man. To me, you would always be a boy. You will always be the boy with flaming red hair and freckled cheeks and space in your arms for me. You will always be the Fred Weasley I knew when I met him in that fateful corridor, just as he jinxed my hair. You were my boy, my Fred.

You were the boy who found me my soul mate. You knew it even before I did. It took me almost as long as I knew you to realise it, but you recognized it way before anybody did. And so you did the right thing.

Now, because of you, Oliver Wood and I are together, just like we were meant to be.

I love him. I always did. I love the way his eyes gleam at the sound of Quidditch, I love the way he stares at me in the morning. I love how I can make him so jealous by doing absolutely nothing at all. Or how he manfully tries to swallow the charred dinner I cooked. Thanks to you, we have each other. Oliver and I are grateful for that.

Do you remember the night you left me in my sixth year? You ran away with George on your broomstick, escaping from school. I cried the whole time as you took off on that faithful Cleansweep of yours, leaving me all alone. I watch you soared into the sky till you were nothing but the size of a speck of dust, never turning once to look at me. I wept the entire night. You abandoned me, I thought, and you were no longer there for me anymore. Suddenly I was that ten years old kid who couldn't do anything without her best friend. And I finally broke down once more. It was the saddest day of my life.

It's been six months now, hasn't it? Three months since you…left . Again. And to think, I never visited your grave even once, all this time. Not until today anyway. I couldn't bring myself to.

I'm not sure I feel okay now. It feels as though you were on your Cleansweep again, kicking off from the ground and flying away from me once more.

It was two months ago when Oliver told me something. He had hesitated, and then he hugged me, as if scared of losing me again. I must confess I have no idea what to do. He was still half crying before he spoke again.

" He loved you."

That was all he said. But I knew what he meant.

But the truth is, I knew. I knew it long ago, how you felt for me. I knew just as long as you kept it quiet. I knew it even though you never told me before. And I ... I didn't do anything about it.

God knows how terrible you feel as you gave me up willingly to Oliver, and how much it hurts to do such a sacrifice. You will never fight for me, and I will never understand the pain you been through for me. You simply knew that you were not the one meant for me. And so you did the right thing, no matter how much it hurts.

The right things are the hardest things to do, you had told me once. I didn't know you meant this at that point of time.

You meant everything in the world to me. You were always there beside me, and never gave up on your little Katie Bell. You did everything a man in love does, to protect and make her happy.

I love you, Fred. I love you. But only as your best friend.

I think you knew it too, for you were never one to bow to defeat. You were never a loser. You were a winner, Fred, you always were one. To me, and to everybody. I still remember first year when you got into a fight with half of Slytherin Quidditch Team. What a sight you were, a tiny little red-headed mite, clinging on to Marcus Flint's great height. You knew you were never going to win, and how could you have? And yet you stood triumphantly, a purple bruise around your eye and half your blessed bones broken.

The hospital wing hadn't been fun that night, though you grinned crazily as you retold your twisted tale to everyone. I wailed, but you didn't care.

Often I told you what you would do without me. You couldn't clean up after yourself to save your life, and it was I who always cleared the mess. You didn't know how to do the dishes, and your clothes were always littered across the floor. I was there to wash your socks, to tidy things up, because you didn't know how to. But in the end, it was I who couldn't do without you. It was never the other way.

You were the one beside me at my father's funeral, the one who held my hand. I had been crying the whole time, and you just stood silently beside me. It was only until you took out your handkerchief and offered it to me, and then I burst out laughing. You were always old-fashioned that way, carrying one around. For days like these, you added. It was only a handkerchief, but I felt better anyway. It was so good to remind me that you were always there to pick up the pieces when I was shattered.

But you aren't anymore.

I couldn't do anything at all. You weren't dead, I insist, you were just…gone. I didn't want to add the 'forever' part, and I tried to deny the facts. But denial only brought me closer to reality, the real world that exists without you. You weren't there to jump on me, or to snatch away the newspaper (even though you never read it). You never sit in your favourite red arm chair anymore. It was strange not to see you poking around my house with a lordly air, leaving traces behind you. And then I crashed. I couldn't cope anymore.

I couldn't function for a month. I was devastated again, and this time, you weren't there to pick up the pieces. I couldn't recover until many weeks later, when Oliver offered me his yellow-checked handkerchief as I was crying. But then the moment I saw it, I started to laugh. I couldn't help it.

It was just a handkerchief, but it was a reminder of the sweet gestures you do.

Strange though, how you were there to take care of me even when you are dead. This time, yes I admit, I knew you were dead. But you were never gone. You will never be gone from me anymore.

I have a baby now, it's a girl. She's the most beautiful baby I ever seen. With blue eyes and the cutest little ski-jumped nose, and brown little fine hair all over her head. She is adorable, and I think she looks like me. Oliver says so too, and I think he's a bit jealous of that. But he is a wonderful father, and getting too fond of her almost. You would love her if you were still here to be her godfather, her Uncle Fred.

Oliver says we should name her after you. It would be a way of remembering you, to commemorate everything. It makes sense, I guess, to name our child after the man who did so much for us.

But I didn't like that. To me, there can only be one Fred, only one little Fred in my heart. I didn't have space for two. You took up too much space in me.

I knew you wouldn't like it anyway. You didn't want anybody to be named after you that way, and you'd rather do something nice for others. That was more like you, more like Fred Weasley, to want to cheer his beloved family up. No, it was too fast to name somebody after you, and then bring up sad memories again. You'd like a child name after you because he had that mischievious twinkle in his eyes, or because she learned how to jinx somebody's hair green at the age of two.Not because you are dead.

We named her Georgina Wood. She didn't need a middle name.

I think you would like that. You'd be pleased to see how she cheered George up when he heard the news. You would love to see your twin be remembered for the great things he'd done, not just you.

Oliver, George and the baby are spending too much time together to be considered healthy. But they are happy, as you would be too.

I am happy too. But I feel empty still sometimes. Deep inside me, I know there would be no more Fred to hex people right and left. No more messy red hair darting around my house and stealing the toast in the morning. There would be no Fred to trip clumsily over his shoelaces, or make people laugh. Nobody to claim that my bed was too small and wink suggestively, and I would never dart down the hallway to chase you with my soapy saucepan anymore. No more Fred in yellow Wellington boots to offer me a big blue umbrella.

You weren't just the boy who happened to be my best friend. You were the boy there when I needed you to be. You were the boy who loved me for eight years. You were the boy who secretly stayed up to finish his best friend's homework when she was asleep. You were the boy who didn't hand in his own assignment the next day.

I don't like to admit it, but somehow you had worked your way into my heart and soul.

_I miss you,_

_Katie_

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**Yes, I know. Half of you guys are gonna be killing me for being so cruel to Fred. Even now I don't understand how I can be so heartless either heheh. **

**This story goes out to justgiddy, who is probably upset over her favourite redhead's death. I dedicate this to her because not only is she a total star, but because she loves Fred the most. Hopefully this one cheers her up, although I must say, it may have the reverse effect and she's gonna hunt me down for killing Fred. **

**And this is also for Lady Catriona-Arre, because she is just so great. Plus Fernando Torres (my soccer player) is in Liverpool now. If I remember correctly, Liverpool's her team. So this is double celebration.**

**Review please. For me, and for Fred**.


End file.
